


Breathe

by On_A_Larkspur



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alien Zer0 (Borderlands), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Wound Dressing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi Established Relationship, Undefined Relationship, intense sexual tension, unspoken thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_A_Larkspur/pseuds/On_A_Larkspur
Summary: Rhys has become adept at burying his past traumas. After all, the weak don’t survive long in the ruthless business of weapons manufacturing. His near brush with death, however, sends him into a dangerous spiral that he struggles to pull himself back out of. Zer0 is many things to him, and in this moment he is everything.
Relationships: Rhys/Zer0 (Borderlands)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Injecting a little Tales character development, bad assery, and sex appeal back into Rhys. Takes place immediately following Katagawa's defeat. (Minor canon bending)

He could already feel it rising in the back of his throat, chipping away at his smile. Rhys held it, forced all his energy into holding it as the Vault Hunters disappeared into the corridors of Atlas HQ. He heard Lorelei say something to him but a dull pounding was already filling his ears. He shook his head and beamed at her. Dimly he heard himself say “Sorry, give me a moment? I need to put my head back on straight and change my shirt. Look at this!” It was too loud. Too fake. But he had no control. It felt like someone else was going through the motions, his body was on autopilot as he pointed to the gash in the elbow where he’d fallen. “Meeting in an hour to discuss? Schedule one for me and— well, whatever is still open and in one piece, lunch is on me. Your choice!”  


Rhys swallowed the lump in his throat, wiping at the sweat beginning to bead on his brow as he walked briskly back to his office and the privacy of his executive bathroom. The air felt thick and heavy, hard to get a full breath. The port on his temple was itching and, not for the first time, he wished his ECHO eye could tear up just so it didn’t feel so damn dry. His cybernetic arm kept twitching. Or at least it felt like it. On some level he knew it was just responding to his trembling, but that didn’t stop a surge of intense fear. He felt it again, the wet tearing of circuits from muscle; an electrical pulse that traveled from his shoulder all the way down to his toes and behind his eyes. White hot unbearable pain, slow and agonizing as his flesh gave way. He heard a broken noise escape his lips, but he continued walking. He’d hold onto the last fragments of control he could before it fell apart.  


The door to his office closed with a slam as he practically fell back against it. “It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine,” he began muttering, closing his eyes to try and forcefully hold the panic at bay. He could almost hear Jack’s voice at the edge of his mind, and once again feel the slick, jagged popping of his eye as the cord dragged against the inside of his skull.  


_“This is what commitment looks like, you little fraud.”_  


He heaved violently but dry. He hadn’t had the stomach for food this morning and his coffee still sat untouched on the edge of his desk. He’d just finished pouring it when Katagawa walked in. Walked in and… The thought trailed off as he surveyed the room. The gouges in his desk, planner cut in half on the floor where he’d thrown it. The images replayed in his mind like a nightmare, shifting and blending with old wounds. He steadied himself by focusing on the cup, steam still curling from the edges as it sat on its little hot plate. It only worked for a moment before the terror set in. A twitch of the fingers. A flicker in his eye.  


_“I’ll take over your body and skin you alive with your own two hands.”_  


He wanted them off. His arm, the port, the goddamned eye. They had to come out NOW. Rhys lurched to his feet and dug his nails into the side of his head, scrabbling uselessly at the ECHO port. He’d had glass before. Something sharp. The glass shard in his mind shifted into a sword. Katagawa’s sword grazing dangerously close to his face. Slicing clean across his hip as he stumbled backwards from his chair. Again in the back as he ran. It had stung. Did it sting? He dazedly glanced down at the wet patch hidden under the hem of his jacket. His mind was having trouble parsing his phantom pains from the real ones. He knew he’d been hit. And then there was the jump down from his office. The fall. Adrenaline had hidden it in the moment but now? Rhys’ mind felt like a mad jumble. Something sharp. He’d wanted something sharp. His arm twitched again and he instinctively grabbed it. His fingernails scraped and bent against the metal housing. He was just hooking his index finger into the socket when a firm hand grabbed his wrist. He was tugged backwards into a solid frame where his arms were pinned against his chest.  


Rhys felt his panic fight him for a moment. He grunted and shoved backwards. The arms were surprisingly strong. Hands closed over his to prevent him from grabbing again and a cool, glass pressure leaned against the top of his head.  


“Breathe.”  


The word cut through the darkness, calm and quiet. Rhys hated himself for the sob that escaped his lips. He arched again, fingers splaying as he tried to work his way loose. The hands closed again, fingers lacing with his and squeezing. It didn’t hurt, but the pressure was very firm. The leather gloves were cool against his hand, armor pressing smooth and hard beneath his finger pads. The visor pressed harder into his hair. Rhys let out a gasping breath. He didn’t want to be held still. He wanted to thrash and claw and destroy and scream and until his voice was gone.  


“I need you to breathe / They are only specters / I am here for you”  


The voice was so calm. So patient. He was so patient. Rhys felt himself being slowly forced to the floor until they were sitting, pressed tightly to one another. His breathing came harsh and ragged, but he was breathing. The air felt crisp and cold in the moment, raw on his throat. His face felt numb. His fingers tingled. Rhys went lax and opened his eyes. His heart slowed, the thump of blood in his ears growing steady before fading. The soft lights on the ceiling of his office settled into focus. His chest still ached but it no longer felt like it was going to implode.  


This was not the first time Zer0 had intervened. It was also not the first time he’d been caught tearing out his implants in a haze of post traumatic stress and fear. The others hadn’t been able to deal with it. But Zer0. Zer0 could. And he was so unbearably patient. They sat together on the floor in silence for several long minutes. Finally, the assassin relinquished his grip, freeing Rhys’ hands. One arm remained crossed over his, but the other lightly ran down his shoulder and squeezed. They were so close, he could hear the soft exhale as Zer0 rocked to his feet and stood both of them up. The world lurched and his knees briefly buckled, but Rhys was able to get his feet under him again. He was walked over to his desk and gently sat down on the edge.  


Zer0 seemed to regard the coffee cup with a small tilt of the head before picking it up and pressing it into Rhys’ hands. “I don’t want—” the man weakly stammered but the assassin only closed his hands more insistently over his own. He understood. It was something to focus on. Rhys sighed quietly and took a sip. This seemed to satisfy his bodyguard, who disappeared into the small bedroom off his office. Lorelei would have some choice words if she knew how often he slept here. Rhys felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips and quickly took another sip of coffee. This was safe, he reminded himself. He was… safe? He cast another glance back at the door, the warmth in his chest fading as he replayed the image of a Zer0 doppelganger kicking it wide, sword drawn. He took another swig and looked away.  


The longer he sat and the quieter his mind grew, the more insistent the aches became. His elbow burned, raw and bloody. The gashes in his hip and lower back stung. His ankles and knees throbbed. His shoulder twinged with every sip. The trembling was back, but it had more to do with the wave of exhaustion that rolled over him. Rhys hummed quietly and set the mug down before he dropped it. He let his head fall forward and willed his thoughts to stop spinning. Small traces of anxiety flitted through his chest, but they were much diminished. Easier to ignore.  


He didn’t know how long he was staring at the floor, but when he glanced up he found he was being watched. Zer0 stood nearby, lithe arms folded across his chest. He could not see the assassin’s expression, nor were his LEDs lit. Still, Rhys knew the body language well enough to know he was in trouble. He braced himself, sitting taller as the assassin approached him. His arms were shoved open so Zer0 could reach inside his coat and withdraw the gun holstered on his belt. It was held in front of his nose long enough to make a point before it was practically slammed down onto the desk.  


“You had a weapon / Could have defended yourself / Why didn’t you shoot?”  


Rhys sighed quietly and closed his eyes. He slumped, letting his fingers curl around the edges of the desk as the ache settled in his heart. After a long pause, he answered. “You say that as if I could shoot you.”  


There was a blip of red on the visor. Rhys fondly referred to it as the eye twitch, a flicker of visible annoyance when Zer0 both wanted to make a point and be taken seriously. “It wasn’t me.”  


No haiku. They were treading into serious territory. Rhys offered a shrug and looked away.  


Zer0 closed the distance between them, reaching out and grabbing the man’s chin. His strength was on display again as Rhys found himself forced to look up into the nebulous shadows of his bodyguard’s visor. “You thought I would betray you?”  


The pang in his heart blossomed, raw and hot. He didn’t want to admit just how much it had hurt in the moment to think his protector and friend was going to kill him. Just cut him down mercilessly like an animal in the same room they had spent so much time together. He’d almost stood still and let it happen, wondering what he’d done to fuck this up on such a monumental scale. If he had deserved it. He could have. After all, didn’t he betray his other friends? Murder an entire space station full of people just to kill Jack? Why couldn’t he find a way to mess this up too? Rhys didn’t realize he was crying until the tear spilled down his cheek.  


Zer0 shifted his grip, brushing a thumb against it. They froze there for a moment, staring at each other. The assassin slid his fingers back into Rhys’ hair, other hand taking his as he gently tugged the man back onto his feet. Rhys rested a hand on the molded armor, as if it made up for the way he blatantly leaned his full weight onto the Vault Hunter. The visor gently bumped his brow, one of the more intimate signs of affection they had. He felt his breath quicken and grow ragged with the reassurance, too shaken to be embarrassed about his breath fogging the tempered glass this time. A hand pressed against his back, pulling him closer. Rhys let his hand slide down around the assassin’s waist, the other still held firmly. They stayed that way until his trembling abated and the tears stopped, though the tension on Zer0’s frame hinted he was growing impatient.  


Rhys was just about to mentally chastise himself for being so weak and clingy, when the bodyguard spoke. “I want to look at / your wounds. I can smell the blood / You must be in pain.”  


“No, no, it’s nothing—” he immediately stammered. Whatever excuse he was going to make was cut off by Zer0 scooping him up with little effort and escorting him into the bedroom. “Zer0 s-stop I can walk, I’m f—”  


The visor flickered on. “…” it said, calling him on his bullshit.  


There was already a towel on the bed with a medical kit open beside it. Normally it was something Zer0 used to treat his own wounds. Rhys had never seen the contents before, though the number of needles on display was unnerving. He was set down on his feet. Hands worked brusquely at his shirt, pushing away the vest before he could get a word or even a clear thought out. This was new and a bit _intense_. Their friendship has always bordered on something too tactile and passionate to ever be considered friendship by normal standards but— His mind stuttered as his shirt was pushed off his shoulders and nimble fingers made quick work of his belt. “Zer0.”  


“I need to fix you,” came the calm response. It sounded like there may have been more to it but the assassin paused, seemed to reconsider, and reached for the pillow instead. Rhys felt his mouth go dry when the silk blindfold was handed to him. This was part of their arrangement. Zer0 would only reveal himself if Rhys could not see it. Not that the cloth really guaranteed anything. He could cheat with the ECHO eye, but this was important enough that he didn’t want to. This was deep and intimate trust, and there was nothing he’d willingly do to break it. Feeling a rush of heat between his shoulder blades, the man shakily tied the blindfold off and let his partner check it. He sat still, listening to Zer0 unsnap his gloves. He heard each one hit the floor followed at length by the hiss of the helmet seal. A different kind of tremble took his body as the zip of the jacket echoed in the quiet room. Normally it was just the gloves and the helmet. Nervousness and excitement tugged at him in equal measure, causing him to jolt when a cool hand was pressed against his chest. Zer0 was always cool. Never cold but comfortingly cool to the touch. The hand guided him down onto the bed.  


Rhys flinched as the gash on his back made contact with the towel. A hint more red oozed into the fabric at his hip as well. It was enough to bring him back to the sharp reality of the situation. The hand returned, rubbing soothingly into his side.  


“Breathe.”  


Zer0’s voice without the helmet was soft and wonderfully different with a quiet reverb of its own. A small rumble on certain syllables that made his knees weak. Rhys took a deep measured breath and tried to relax; made impossible again by tug at his waistband and the sound of his zipper being undone. “Zer0,” he said again, making a blind grab for his friend’s hand.  


“You have sustained / injuries to your lower / anatomy. Let me.”  


“That’s a very clinical way of saying it,” he muttered, earning a breathy chuckle. He was quickly divested of his shoes, socks, and, much to his chagrin, pants. The socks came away with a sharp twinge in one ankle but the pants. The pants were worse. The fabric ripped loose from the drying blood on his hip and knee where he had fallen. Rhys jerked upright with a grunt, quickly pushed down again by a very insistent hand. A hand that moved to the waistband of his underwear.  


He grabbed again and this time caught Zer0 by the wrist. He felt the assassin shift upwards to sit by his chest. Rhys did not know if Zer0 understood the concept of human sex or if he was even built for it himself. They’d never broached the topic before. He heard a soft exhale of air and felt the other hand touch his cheek. The one he held gently twisted loose to lace their fingers together. “I am only accessing the wound. I will not touch you.”  


No haiku again. Rhys nodded and relaxed slightly. He touched the hand on his cheek before turning his face into it. His lips brushed the smooth skin on Zer0’s palm; their most intimate gesture of trust. He felt the alien shudder and go completely still. He’d never understood the fascination with his lips. Perhaps Zer0 did not have anything equivalent, or simply did not use his in that way. Whatever the reason, the gesture was returned in its usual fashion by a thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip. Maybe it was because he was practically nude. Perhaps it was the stress and the faint traces of adrenaline in his body. Or maybe it was the reassurance that he hadn’t lost his partner, that they were still... whatever they were. But this one hit harder than normal. Rhys felt a sigh leave his mouth unbidden as the hand pulled away.  


He tensed as he felt the waistband folded down twice. A finger traced the wound, drawing a hiss from him. “Don’t.”  


“It is not deep but / I should stitch it to be sure / it heals correctly.”  


“No,” Rhys gasped, shaking his head. “No needles. Come on, there has to be something else.”  


“I will numb the pain / Would you prefer a doctor? / We can wait for one.” The tone had an edge of cold disapproval to it.  


Rhys blindly reached out and grabbed the assassin’s hand again, giving it a squeeze. “I trust you,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Zer0 pulled away. There was a soft rustling as several things were withdrawn. A moment of quiet. Then without warning, the sharp jab of a needle in his thigh.  


Rhys jerked upright again. “Ouch, Zer0!” He was caught and pulled tightly into a one armed embrace to prevent him from moving further. The shock of more skin on skin and the edge of a jaw line at his temple was enough to keep him still. He felt warmth creeping through the leg, spreading upwards through his hip and into his chest. His limbs felt fuzzy. His vision was beginning to soften at the edges, and his mind drifted. He didn’t even feel the syringe being pulled back out. “Warn me… next time…What… is that?” he murmured.  


“Something that helps me / sleep after a hard battle / You need the rest, Rhys.”  


“No rest,” he mumbled. “Meeting. Gotta. Mmmph.” He felt his head touch the pillow again. It wasn’t sleep, not exactly. He was still aware of what was happening, it just felt distant and disconnected. It came in flashes. Antiseptic on his knee, a bandage being wrapped around his ankle, the strange painless tug of a needle through his skin, being rolled over to tend to his back.  


The clearest moment he remembered was feeling Zer0’s weight leave the bed. Reaching out to grab. “Wait. Stay,” he mumbled. There was no response but he did recall someone on the bed behind him. Cool skin against his shoulder blades. Knees tucked up against his thighs. Four fingers lacing tight in his. Lightly kissing a thumb on his mouth. When it came again, he nipped and pressed a harder kiss into the smooth skin. There was a low rumbling growl in his ear and then nothing.  


Rhys woke with a start. His heart was pounding and the dull ache in his wounds was insistent enough that he knew he’d been out for at least several hours. He felt disoriented and frightened when he couldn’t see, realizing only several seconds later that the blindfold was still on. “Zer0?” he called, hesitating as his fingers curled over it. With no answer, he gingerly removed it. There was no one in the room. He’d been moved off the towel at some point and tucked into bed. Rhys sighed and flopped back onto the pillow. He stuffed the blindfold back underneath and lay there awhile, lost to his thoughts. He could still feel cool skin against his, a ghost of a touch on his lips. That had been real, right? Or maybe those were just the fever dreams of a horny imagination. He hummed and curled in on himself, pulling the sheets tight. He’d had a fair few trysts before, even attempted a couple relationships; but this was different. Impossible to describe. He didn’t want to put a label on it for fear of destroying whatever it was. It was best to ignore it for now. Continue on as if nothing had happened; boss and bodyguard. Just bros. If it was something, Zer0 would initiate.  


He coaxed himself out of bed and stumbled over to the closet to dress himself. Black shirt today. Mm, yes black. With the vest. No tie, unbuttoned. He bit his lip, tracing the edges of his tattoos. It had been awhile. It was alright to feel a little sexy today, wasn’t it? Competitor gone, creepy stalker dead, and a ship load of Maliwan tech lying around to disassemble and rebuild under the Atlas brand with his own signature stamp. He’d survived a corporate takeover and an assassination attempt and come out on top. Feeling more in control than he had for weeks, Rhys strolled into the bathroom and combed his hair. He was nearly a minute into preening when he realized it was gone. He scoffed and reached for the blank space that should have been occupied by his digistruct mustache. “Alright, I get it!” he said to no one in particular. “Whatever, it was a siege stache anyway. I guess I’ll ditch it now that I’m no longer under siege.” He pouted, touching his face in the mirror. He looked young again, in his mind too young. He’d liked the maturity the facial hair had brought, fake or no. It made him feel like he belonged or at least had earned his place. Rhys shrugged and finished running product through his hair. He still felt a little ragged, a little sore, but certainly more himself as he strode back into his office, doing the cuff link on his one sleeve.  


“Look who is up and about,” came a jovial voice. “And finally the dead rat is gone! Hooray!” Lorelei pushed herself off the wall where she’d been leaning.  


“Haha, you’re so funny,” Rhys quipped back, quirking a brow. He picked up the data pad on his desk and began scrolling to see what he had missed. “Zane liked it.”  


“First, Vault Hunters will say anything to get paid.” He could hear her approach. “Second, are those really the standards you want to set?” A hand appeared around his shoulder, wiggling a small styrofoam cup with a long spoon sticking out of the lid.  


“Is that—?” he gasped excitedly, snatching it out of her hand.  


“Sorry, just a plain chocolate for now. Couldn’t find anyone that did your flavor on short notice since, you know, laser death machine. Pew pew.” She was in his face when he turned around, hands on the lapels of his vest. “I haven’t seen these duds since you first took over. So, is Dad-CEO finally out? Do we get the young hotness back?”  


“D-Dad?” he sputtered indignantly, already licking the spoon.  


“Good,” she continued on, unabashed. “I like being able to brag we’re the sexiest team in the business. You were really bringing us down there for a bit with your please-god-take-me-seriously phase.” Lorelei clicked her tongue and playfully finger gunned before turning on a heel.  


“Wait!” he called after her, cheeks still burning from the comment. “The meeting—”  


She glanced back and raised a brow. “That thing? Zer0 cancelled it, like, immediately after you set it. You know, on account of you being unconscious. Though we did take you up on the lunch thing. It’s on the company card.”  


“Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled, trotting to catch up. “I wasn’t unconscious. We can’t fall behind, especially with an opening like this. I want those Maliwan specs in the labs and on my desk by tomorrow morning. We push hard enough, we could have a brand new line out before they even find a new CEO. Keep pushing and we could force them into a buyout.”  


She laughed brightly. “Wow, game face back on. I like it. You say that like it’s a bad thing. Everyone knows you faced down that punk Katagawa like a champ. You took the hits and kept on walking. No one expects you to be back in the board room while you’re still bleeding.” She jabbed him in the arm hard enough that he almost dropped his frogurt.  


Rhys chuckled lightly before shaking his head. “It was the Crimson Raiders. Not me.”  


“And? Whatever. Like every CEO out there hires muscle, why can’t you? Point is Atlas kicked Maliwan ass. We’re the big dogs now. You’re a certified bad ass. Enjoy it.” She grinned and laced her fingers behind her head. “Oh, and you bought lunch for the entire company so you’re kind of a hero. World’s best boss, thank you very much Lorelei.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.  


“I did what?” Rhys shrugged with a helpless laugh. “Yeah fine, just get me those specs and whip the marketing team into shape. The sales should make up for it.” He playfully added, “Thank you very much, Lorelei.”  


She elbowed him a little harder than necessary and strode off as soon as the door opened. “Hello Zer0,” she chirped as she strode by a stationary figure. The assassin sidestepped her punch as he stepped onto the lift. Rhys moved to follow when an arm stopped him.  


“Zer0 I have to—” he started, surprised to find himself walked forcefully back. The door slid shut and the lift began to rise again as his shoulders hit the wall. Rhys was caged in by the assassin’s lithe arms and he barely had time to set his frogurt down on the railing before their bodies pressed together. He managed to wriggle his arms free and drape them over his bodyguard’s shoulders. The visor pressed almost insistently against his brow. “Is it the clothes?” he murmured playfully, feeling a flush of heat crawl up his neck and spine. There was no answer, just a press of gloved fingers at his throat, jaw, and lips. Rhys shivered and pulled Zer0 down, pressing a kiss to his visor.  


As abruptly as it started, it ended. The doors dinged and he was holding nothing but air, splayed lasciviously against the railing as the assassin disappeared onto another floor. Rhys took a moment to compose himself, still blushing furiously as he picked up his cup and punched the floor he wanted. That was another mystery he’d have to untangle later. At least it was a pleasant one. He took a deep breath and smiled, running his fingers back through his hair.  


Things were looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for indulging me dear Readers.


End file.
